Silk Over Steel
by priestessofma'at7
Summary: Anne did as she promised fifteen years ago, and now it is time for her boy to find a bride...Henry's choice is the Imperial Princess Sovay of Zergovnia, and by all accounts she is a pleasing bride; but this outspoken girl may not be all the she seems... Rating may change, really only Tudors for the universe.


"Her highness the Imperial Princess Sovay!" my father's herald cries, and I step forward. The hem of my cloak and dress swirl at my feet; the heels of my leather boots click against the marble floor. The Great Hall falls quiet as nobles watch my passing; their suits and dresses make the men appear to be penguins amidst jewels. Certainly, many are thick enough around the waist. I fight back a chuckle as I reach the end of the Hall and bow to my parents.

I would feel much more comfortable in armor or jeans than a gown, and Father knows this; he raises me quickly, smiling and whispering that I can change soon. My elder sister is seated at my mother's side and I flash her a quick smile before turning back to my father. He stands and speaks to the crowd. "People of Zegovnia," he booms. "A great opportunity as risen for our nations." He looks around, and then sits down as my mother stands and walks forward. What little chatter there was falls silent.

"The Three Monarchs (which means my mother, Sitting Bear, and Yasafid) have considered an offer by the English King and we have deemed it satisfactory." She pauses for a moment, and then speaks the words that will change my life forever. "In order to cement an alliance, the Imperial Princess Sovay will marry the English Prince of Wales in two years' time." She sits down, and the hall erupts into noise as the nobles begin to chatter. My mother leans forward. "Do you consent, my daughter?" My breath has been stolen; it feels like my heart has stopped. My mouth isn't working and I can't even speak as the word bounces around. Married… I am not ready to be a wife! How can I leave Zegovnia for an existence where I will be little more than a broodmare? Surely my mother isn't serious! I sneak a glance at my parent's faces; my father is laughing.

"She doesn't know what to say, my dear. Well, she doesn't have to speak up yet." They're completely serious; but in that instant I see a way out. For though my father may be the mouthpiece to the nobles, it is my mother who is the ruler; Father is, by law, just a Consort. He does not meet with the other rulers. If I say no, I may have the sway to stop this. Of course, that would mean my mother was backing me.

As I am led away, I ponder this; my mother is a strong woman and has raised her children to be so, but I believe she wants us to also be happy. Her country would be forefront in her mind, but perhaps I have a chance of voicing an argument…

I am in a daze as my ladies take me into my chamber and I bid them leave. I need to think right now; perhaps my mother could be swayed by my elder sister, her heir…I know Ariadne would stand up for me. But then there is the problem of money, of my Bride Price…

We are hardly a poor country, and we are a powerful one, but my mother still watches her finances carefully. It's truly a miracle, her bookkeeping; we are one of the grandest courts in the world and yet still make a profit without ridiculous taxes. England has surely demanded a dowry which my mother would be glad to avoid paying; but she would certainly have demanded a Bride Price, as is our custom. For there to be a contract at all suggests that an agreement was reached. I wonder how much I am worth, what the English King will pay for me; it will certainly be balanced by my dowry.

I am broken from my reverie by the door bursting open; that alone tells me who it is. Our strict hierarchy means that, as second daughter, only my elder siblings and parents may burst in on me; and Matthew would not do so. Mother and father are too dignified and formal, so my visitor must be Ariadne.

Sure enough, it is my elder sister who barrels into me, blonde hair flying. "Sovay!" she cries. "I'm sorry this was sprung on you, I tried to get mother to tell you privately but they wouldn't listen…"she is speaking quickly, as she often does when agitated.

"Am I really to be married?" Ariadne pulls back and her green eyes are serious.

"Yes. They are paying quite the price for you; but they will receive almost equal." I am not surprised that my sister knows this; as the heir, my mother tells her nearly everything.

"They would pay less if they didn't marry me at all." My voice is flat and Ariadne does not look surprised.

"You don't wish to be married?" She's not scandalised like others might have been; because women have the power here, unmarried ones are less surprising.

"Not yet, and not to someone I don't know!" I cry. Ariadne laughs gently.

"You have some time still. He will send you letters." She is clearly trying to placate me, but I'm too upset to be angry.

"That is hardly the same thing," I snap. "And to go so far, to a country so foreign…" Ariadne looks sad.

"I cannot tell you it will be easy to adjust, for I know it will not be. What do you want to do?" It is the first time anyone has asked me this.

"To not leave you and Matthew and the girls; to stay here and not marry this Prince of Wales. You must help me, Aria; talk to mother and get her to reconsider!" Ariadne gets infinitely more grave.

"I will try. But I can't promise results." Trying is enough, and I tell her so. Her face sets into grim determination as she hugs me and walks away, leaving me alone. I got to my windowsill and climb up, staring out over the grounds. They are still covered in a thick white blanket of snow, and a few courtiers are walking around. Two boys are shoveling the pathways, throwing snowballs at one another; it is a familiar scene, and tears prick my eyes at the thought of leaving it. I turn away.

Outside, someone knocks at the door; it is my lady Ysinia. Her quiet voice comes through the door. "M'lady? Anya is here to see you."

"Let her in," I order; Anya's cherubic little face will cheer me. My youngest sister bursts through the door, throwing herself into my arms. Anya is still too young for court, so she wears casual clothes of jeans and a little t-shirt; she's likely just been told. Her big blue eyes swim with tears and her voice is shaking as she asks me,

"You not going, are you Sovay? Why you leaving?" She looks up at me, and my heart breaks. I pull her into a hug, and she buries her face in my shoulder.

"I hope not to, my sweet. I'll try to stay." I being to rock her.

"You HAVE to stay! You have to!" Anya's little voice is vehement.

"Mumma wants me to be married," I say. "She wants me to go to England." Anya pulls back a little from me.

"But why?" How do I explain the politics to a girl barely five years old? I am being sold, and the same thing will likely happen to her and Ellie and Matt; but I can't say as much to her.

"Sometimes," I begin slowly, "When two rulers want to make a friendship between their countries, they let their children be future rulers of that country; this is because it's harder to attack your relatives. It's to protect us." Anya doesn't understand, I can tell as much, but she nods anyway.

"I don't want you to go!" she cries and curls back into me to sob. I hold her and rub her back for a while, letting a few tears of my own slip onto her cornsilk locks. Finally, she pulls back.

"I go talk to mumma. She can't send you away!" My sister clambers off me and strides away, her governess in close pursuit. I manage a smile; underneath her child's vulnerability Anya has as much an iron spine as me. She has had a moment of weakness, and now she'll get into the ring to fight until she's thoroughly beaten.

After she has left I'm feeling more melancholy and determined than before; I CANNOT leave Zegovnia. In will not. I may not throw a tantrum, but I will fight until I have won or I have exhausted all other options.


End file.
